Midnight Blue Read online

  ABOUT MIDNIGHT BLUE

  ‘As they rose, the sun rose with them as if they were racing for the top of the sky. Its warmth welcomed them, turning the dark skin of the fiery balloon a beautiful midnight blue. They flew straight up. Above them, the sweet, clear music of the lonely pipe, the only sound left in the whole world, drew them on until they prepared to hit the very roof-top of the sky itself. Then the smooth sky puckered into cloth-of-blue and drew aside for them, like curtains parting. The music called again, and they passed straight through.’

  This new edition of Midnight Blue celebrates the twenty-first anniversary of its Smarties Grand Prix win. Midnight Blue is the haunting story of Bonnie, torn between her young, single mother, Maybelle, and her grandmother from hell, the malevolent Grandbag whose cruelty and interference propels Bonnie into a dramatic escape.

  Aided by a mysterious shadowboy and his magical hot air balloon, Bonnie finds a world beyond the sky – one she’s always dreamt of, never believing it could be real. Here a new home awaits her - a bizarre mirror image of the world she’s left behind. But just as Bonnie dares believe she might have found a better life, the cruelty of Grandbag reappears, threatening to destroy it, her new friends and all she’s struggled to achieve.

  Unexpected help comes from Edric and Godda, the mythical and highly elusive lord and lady of Highholly Hill. But Bonnie has to face up to challenges - and make hard choices - which are hers alone.

  Kindle edition 2011, published by Pauline Fisk

  First published in the UK in 1991 by

  Lion Publishing plc

  American Edition published in the USA

  2001 by Bloomsbury US

  Copyright © 1991, 2011 Pauline Fisk

  www.paulinefisk.co.uk

  Pauline Fisk has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  The Smarties Grand Prix winner

  21st Anniversary Edition

  MIDNIGHT

  BLUE

  Pauline Fisk

  ‘Pauline Fisk throws an emotional knockout punch in this haunting tale, which is worth the price for its originality and style alone.’ Glasgow Sunday Mail

  ‘…springing from that rich central core of England that gave us Elidor, Puck, Middle Earth and Watership Down, this is fantasy at its best.’ Fiction Focus

  Contents

  COVER

  ABOUT MIDNIGHT BLUE

  PART ONE - Running Away

  PART TWO - The House on Highholly Hill

  PART THREE – Wild Edric

  PART FOUR - Grandmother Marvell

  PART FIVE - Getting Rid of Grandbag

  PART SIX - The Magic Mirror

  PART SEVEN -Midnight Blue

  PART EIGHT – Maybelle

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MIDNIGHT BLUE REVIEWS

  NOVELS BY PAULINE FISK

  PART ONE

  Running Away

  1

  It began as it always did with sweet, solitary notes of music that called to her from somewhere beyond the sky, a single piper's cry that reached down for her and scooped her over roof tops and streets, office blocks and electric pylons, railway stations, shops and parks. The world faded beneath her. It was a hot, clear day and she flew up till she could see none of it any more. As she rose the sun rose with her, as if they were racing for the top of the sky. Its warmth welcomed her, caressed her skin. Above her the music of the lonely pipe, the only sound left in the whole world, drew her on until she prepared to hit the very roof top of the sky itself. Then the smooth sky puckered into cloth-of-blue and drew aside for her, like curtains parting. The music called again and she passed straight through.

  Straight through, that is, into her bedroom. Bonnie came to herself and she was sitting on the floor surrounded by a litter of suitcases out of which her childhood possessions spilled. A raggedy doll lay in her hands. She stared at it, momentarily bewildered, and then she knew that this was her new home, that she had unpacking to do, that it was a hot, still day beyond the open window, that she'd lost herself daydreaming again.

  She shook her head. The pipe music faded away. In its place she could hear the sound of Maybelle singing in the room next door, of furniture being dragged about, of the radio chattering in the kitchen. She got to her feet, put the doll upon the shelf, leaned out of the window. She could hear sparrows chattering, children playing, the droning of a vacuum cleaner next door now, traffic on the road outside the block of flats. She looked down beyond the balcony, at the tarmac forecourt and the sign that said HIGHHOLLY HOUSE Nos. 1-79. She followed the line of the orange brick wall along the road and behind the garages, past the cluster of trees in the corner, to the new shops.

  There was something about those trees. Her eyes lingered on them. What was it? They were stiff, gnarled, spreading hollies. Perhaps it was their obvious age that set them apart. Their branches bristled in what seemed to be their own private breeze. They were lonely, like a distant island across the sea…

  Bonnie's mother opened the bedroom door. Her hair was piled into a straggly yellow whirl on top of her head. Her cheeks were round and pink. Her eyes were smudged with yesterday's mascara.

  'Come on Bonnie,' she said. 'Don't just sit there. There's lots to do.'

  'All right Maybelle.' Bonnie turned from the window. 'I was just starting.'

  'Well, hurry up,' her mother said. 'And think about colour schemes while you're at it. We'll go and buy some paint this afternoon.'

  She rubbed her hands against her jeans and tilted her head thoughtfully to look the room up and down. Bonnie looked at it too. 'What d'you think of red and yellow, Maybelle?'

  Maybelle opened her mouth to tell her, but something stopped her. A car rattled across the forecourt. It halted right beneath the bedroom balcony and the happy colour faded out of her cheeks. Bonnie looked out of the window. She'd recognized the sound as well. She knew what she'd see.

  'It's Grandbag.'

  'On her own?'

  'No. Doreen's with her.'

  'Oh.'

  They looked at each other miserably.

  'She's probably missing you,' Maybelle said.

  'I've only been gone one day,' Bonnie replied.

  ‘I’d better go and put my make-up straight,’ Maybelle said. ‘She always says I look like I’m not coping when I don’t bother.’ She left the room. Bonnie heard her humping the vacuum cleaner into the hall cupboard. She turned off the kitchen radio and there was an awful silence. Bonnie looked out of the window again. Grandbag was hoisting straight the black-and-bead coat which she wore whatever the weather, and readjusting her hat. Doreen, thin, dark and as different from Maybelle as a sister could be, fluttered round her in a shapeless bundle of a summer dress. Grandbag strode towards the stairway. Doreen followed her. Like an army of two, they disappeared into the darkness below. Bonnie heard Maybelle in the bathroom now. There was a waiting hush, then the shrill ring of the bell.

  'We can't stay long. We thought we'd better come and see how you're managing with the child. You can show us round as well. How's she getting on?'

  Bonnie heard them coming down the hall. 'She talks to herself,' she heard Grandbag say. 'You'll have to do something about that. And she daydreams.'

  Almost without thinking, Bonnie climbed out of the window onto the balcony. They entered the room. She crouched out of sight. Close to the window, she heard Grandbag's voice again.

  'What a mess! She won't do a thing if you don't make her, you mark my words. Where is she?'

  She
could imagine Grandbag hauling her coat straight again, and folding her emphatic arms in that gesture of hers. She could imagine the make-up, thickly caked to hide her creeping age. She could imagine the thin lips, the wobbling hat, the eyes. She flattened herself against the wall and heard her mother say that she'd been here a minute ago, that she didn't know where she had gone.

  'You should have left the child with me,' Grandbag said. 'It's not going to work, you mark my words. Now you can't even find her. Do you know what she said to me, before you came to get her? Do you? She said, "Is Maybelle really my mother?" That's what she said. You should have left her with me, where she belongs.'

  Bonnie could imagine Maybelle's face, bright with hurt feelings. She hung her head with shame and tried to slide away. Grandbag wasn't lying. She had said it. But she'd only wanted to be sure. She hadn't meant any harm. She found the fire escape at the end of the balcony, and jumped onto it. 'The trouble with you,' Grandbag was saying. Bonnie's shoe hit the metal step, and rang out sharply.

  Grandbag stopped. 'What was that?'

  'I don't know.'

  Grandbag and Doreen stuck their heads out of the window. Bonnie began to clamber down as fast as jumbled hands and legs would go. Grandbag's whole head shook with indignation, but she didn't call to Bonnie. She didn't ever speak to her, if she could help it. She shouted at Doreen instead.

  'Get her, Doreen. Bring her back up here.'

  Doreen clambered dutifully onto the balcony and began to wave her arms at Bonnie. 'Come back,' she called in her thin, uncertain voice. 'Come back to your Grandmother right away.’

  Bonnie, for answer, jumped the last few steps onto the ground. 'Maybelle, what does the child think she's doing?' Grandbag shouted. 'You've only had her a day, and she's running riot.'

  Bonnie didn't hear any more. New sounds rushed to greet her, little kids skipping, roller skating and kicking cans, a gang of girls laughing together behind their hands and boys riding up and down on bikes in front of them. Doreen began to clatter down the fire escape. Without really thinking, Bonnie ran between the children, heading for the corner with the holly trees.

  The boys stopped kicking cans. The girls stopped laughing. Bonnie saw that the skaters had stopped skating, that all the children's heads were turned to watch her. Doreen was on the ground now, and shouting at her.

  She reached the trees, and with some relief slid into their shade. They were dense and prickly and she struggled through. It was immediately quiet, as if she were a million miles away from children playing and the traffic on the road. It was as if she'd entered a forest, not a cluster of rambling city trees.

  Bonnie came to a wall. There was so much ivy growing on it that at first she didn't see it there and almost stumbled into it. It was an old wall, not searing orange brick like the wall up the road, but grey, ancient, flinty stones that rose up over her head. She could see trees swaying on the other side of it and began to make her way along, looking without success for a gate. Doreen panted behind her and in a panic Bonnie tripped over a pile of stones. She was about to climb over them when she realized what they signified.

  'There's only one reason why they'd be here,’ she thought. 'They must have fallen out of the wall!'

  Bonnie began to dig into the ivy. Her arm plunged in right up to her shoulder. She could feel her fingers breaking free of wiry tendrils on the other side. There was a hole. She pulled her arm out and began to tear away at the ivy and thrust herself through. Doreen came crashing towards her, but Bonnie fell onto the ground on the other side and the ivy sprang back into place again behind her.

  Doreen reached the spot, panting dreadfully. Bonnie held her breath.

  ‘Stupid wretched girl!' Doreen muttered. 'Where's she gone? I've gone and lost her. Why's she always got to be so difficult?'

  It was a good question. Bonnie wondered too. It would have been so much easier if she'd stayed, and been polite, and promised to unpack her bedroom properly and said all the things Grandbag wanted her to say. Now, because of her, there was all this fuss, and Maybelle would be crying and Grandbag would be crowing, 'I told you so.'

  Doreen began to push her way back through the trees. Bonnie sighed with relief. Up above her, she could hear blackbirds singing. It was quiet now. Doreen had really gone. She looked about her. She was still in a wood. But what sort of wood was it, shut away behind high walls in the heart of the city? Bonnie peered through the trees. In the distance stood a sunny clearing. She decided to explore.

  2

  In the clearing a man was digging. He paused, wiped his hot head with a handkerchief, and carried on. Behind him, a flint-faced, mushroom-shaped little house was set against the trees, its roof jutting over a wood veranda upon which languid, cream-coloured cats lay in the sun.

  The man stopped. He cleaned his spade and put it aside. There was something purposeful about the way he moved, something that caught Bonnie's attention, much as the hollies had done from her bedroom window - something that made her want to know what he would do next. He began to walk towards where she was hiding. She shrank back, but he stopped without seeing her. He began pulling down dead branches and dragging them back into the clearing. Then he broke them into little pieces, crack, crack, and stacked them in the pit he'd dug, pausing now and then to wipe his forehead again, and fan away the heat of approaching noon.

  Bonnie wondered how she could move closer without being seen. The man disappeared into a shed, and she thought she saw her chance, but he reappeared with a hammer and a bag of pegs. He pegged out a circle on the ground, right in the middle of the clearing. Then he dug out a second shallower pit. It seemed to take ages and Bonnie became very stiff, though she didn't dare move. When the man had finished, he went back into the shed and she stretched her limbs. He returned with a pile of cloth which he laid down with care and spread across the shallow pit. The cloth was a dark, rather strange colour. At first Bonnie thought it must be black. But when the man laid it out for the sunlight to catch she saw that it was a deep, rich blue. What could it be? Unable to contain her curiosity, Bonnie crept forward for a better view. The undergrowth rustled around her, and she stopped - not that the man seemed to notice. For a moment he stood admiring what he’d done, then he climbed the veranda steps and disappeared into the house.

  But what had he done? Bonnie seized her chance and scrambled forward to find out. She could see a deep trench now, between the first pit with the wood in it, and the second pit with the smoothed-out cloth. What was it all for? She looked at the wood pile and the cloth. She looked at the hammer and pegs. She felt as if she'd walked straight down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. What was happening here?

  Suddenly the man appeared, all cleaned up. Bonnie thrust herself down in the nearest greenery. He climbed down the steps, turned without seeing her and plunged away between the trees. She watched as he came to a gate in the wall and unlocked it carefully. The world outside rushed to greet him. Bonnie caught a glimpse of a busy street with traffic and shoppers. The man turned once to look at his garden and then he was gone. Even from her distance, Bonnie could hear the big key locking the gate again.

  Bonnie got up straight away. She made for the house. 'You can't go up there,' she told herself out loud. But even as she said it, her feet seized the chance and she found herself climbing the veranda steps, picking her way across the wooden boards between the cats, and standing at the front door - which she expected to find locked, but was not.

  'No,' she told herself – and then she walked straight in.

  At once Bonnie was plunged into a green, leafy darkness. No sunshine penetrated the little windows and, as if to make sure it stayed that way, rambling plants grew in pots in front of them. Bonnie could smell stale coffee and tobacco. Her eyes became accustomed to the quality of the light, and she made out shelves that were heavy with books. There were strange things on the walls - weavings, paintings, maps, photographs. Bonnie found a carved head and a string of coloured beads. She crept forward, curiously. Her voice no
longer said 'no'.

  Bonnie explored the shelves, one after another. There were books on the sky at night and archaeology and ancient languages, books of geography and history, science and the story of manned flight, books on birds and farming, hang-gliding and…

  Tap, tap! Bonnie started. It was only a cream cat sliding through the front door behind her, but it reminded her that the man would come back and she didn't have all the time she might have wanted. She turned from the books and delved quickly in the further depths of the room. She found a door through into a kitchen. She found a back room with a sewing-machine. She found stairs leading up into darkness.

  'No, no, no.' Bonnie’s hand clutched the banister as if to stop her. 'You can't go up there.'

  Even so, she began to climb. Something soft brushed against her legs. For a moment there in the darkness her heart pounded, then a streak of cream-coloured fur rushed ahead of her. Just a cat! It pushed open the door at the top and slithered through. Bonnie saw a chink of light and heard something too. But then the door swung shut again and it was gone. What had it been it? Music?

  Bonnie pushed open the door too and stepped across bare, creaking boards into the brightness of noon. The sound was gone. Perhaps she'd never heard it. The room was sunny and fresh, with open windows on every side. It honoured the sky, its walls adorned with pictures of the stars at night, the stages of the moon, the rising sun. In its centre, in a pool of sunlight, a telescope pointed upwards through a glass dome.

  Bonnie crossed the floor to stand beneath the dome. Then she heard it again. It was her music! She looked up and the lonely piper of her dreams called her. For an instant, she had that sense of flying again, of going up through the dome as if it wasn't there, into the sky. Then she stepped back, startled, and the sensation went away, taking the split-second music with it. She shook her head. What was the matter with her? Was she fainting? Was it the heat? Had she imagined it? The boards creaked as she stumbled to a window. She leaned against it and breathed the fresh air. Then something caught her eye.